


breathe just a little deeper, there is no better feeling than now

by Lihgtwood



Category: The Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: F/M, Julian POV, Little things, emma's his beacon of support, everyday things, everyone's at the beach, its kinda sad if u think abt it, much love for julian and emma's relationship, the reverberations of livvy's death on julians psyche
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 14:17:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19792636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lihgtwood/pseuds/Lihgtwood
Summary: Emma looks as though she’s a creature from the beach, a right Los Angeles, California native. She’s sun-kissed and rosy, skin glowing as though it’s soaked up all the heat of the sun and the energy’s collected right there, simmering just beneath the surface of her skin.





	breathe just a little deeper, there is no better feeling than now

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me baby, you don't have to say a thing  
> Keep your eyes closed we can live in reverie  
> Breathe just a little deeper  
> There is no better feeling than now  
> And I promise  
> That this could be everything you needed  
> This could be everything you dreamed of
> 
> \-- Waste Away, Blackbear

Emma looks as though she’s a creature from the beach, a right Los Angeles, California native. She’s sun-kissed and rosy, skin glowing as though it’s soaked up all the heat of the sun and the energy’s collected right there, simmering just beneath the surface of her skin. The waves lap at her knees as she wades into the ocean, Cristina by her side.

Julian watches from the shore through a pair of beach shades purchased from the local knick-knack shop, covered under the shade of the umbrella. He swirls the glass of orange soda in his hand, the surface slippery from all the condensation which has gathered. It’s quiet here. He likes it like this. It’s not very often he gets to enjoy it, after all, having to fill in the big shoes of father for a family of six. There’s Dru and Tavvy, playing a metre away from him with buckets and spades – and he keeps a careful eye on them, of course, he’d kill himself if he lost another child again – but occasionally, for just a flicker of a second, his traitorous eyes find themselves wandering elsewhere.

Like the fabric of Emma’s bikini. The lines of muscle visible on her thigh, even from all this distance away. The wholehearted grin plastered across her face, wide like a rind of melon. Emma sways with the force of the tide, moving with such ease that it’s almost as though she’s so accustomed to the rock and roll of the waves it’s become a natural rhythm to her, much like breathing. Natural disaster. Force of nature. Julian never thinks anything less of her. She’s got all this energy thrumming in her, just waiting for be unleashed.

As if she feels his gaze on her, she turns around. His eyes are hidden behind his shades, but she doesn’t need to see them to know that they’re looking at her. She says something to Cristina and breaks away from the water, running up the slope of the sand to crouch in front of him.

She quirks an eyebrow, grinning. “Why so serious, Mr. I’m Gonna Sit Here and Not Have Any Fun At All? You look as though you’re having a total blast. Like, really euphoric.”

“I hate the sand,” he says simply, smiling.

She takes the orange soda from his hand, throws back a couple mouthfuls, before considerately depositing the empty glass back into his hand.

He shoots her a distasteful look. She pretends not to see it, or feel it rather when he’s wearing those shades, and instead elects to flop down beside him, getting sand everywhere on the towel.

“Hey, watch it,” he exclaims, his dad voice seeping into his words. “You’re dirtying my hiding spot.”

“Aha,” she says, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She leans back on her elbows. Her blonde hair hangs down the side of her face like a blanket. “So you do admit you’re hiding. What’s up, Jules? Today’s supposed to be a fun day.”

He shrugs. “It is a fun day. We’re all having fun.”

“That includes you too. Even you need a break. The kids are fine. Look, they’re playing so happily. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

Julian puts down the empty glass, carefully segueing into another topic. “Need help with sunblock? You’re going to be red all over.”

Emma looks at him for a while, as if trying to peer through his shades, but then she seems to give up and lets out a small sigh. She lets this one slide. She shifts so that her back’s facing Julian.

“Well, slather me up,” she drawls, gathering her hair in front of her. “Make me nice and moist. HA! On another note, I’m so glad that the kids aren’t here to hear that.”

Julian pops open the cap to the sunblock. Emma’s back is tan and smooth and muscled. Sand has collected in areas, sticking to the wetness of her skin.

“Like, honestly, they aren’t getting any younger and I think they’re starting to understand certain things. Maybe I should limit the kind of words I should use… like moist, or wet. Or erect. Cuz things usually tend to go down the wrong path when they come out of my mouth… Ugh! Innuendos… can’t escape ‘em.”

He rests his palm flat against the bare skin of her back. He just lays it there. His hand rises and falls with her breaths, feeling contentment just from the knowledge that she’s safe and alive, more than alive even. She’s brimming with energy, always more than enough.

Emma becomes quiet. She turns back slightly to look at Julian out of the corner of her eye.

“Jules?”

There’s a smirk playing on her lips.

“Turn around,” he orders. “I’m trying to apply sunblock on you.”

“Oh yeah sure,” she says. There’s something devilish in the way she speaks. “I’ll just let you take ten minutes to do that. What are you doing? Popping my bacne? Come on, Jules.”

He hides his smile in the crook of her neck.

“Nah, I would never go near your bacne. Not without disinfectant and rubber gloves.”

Emma throws her head back and laughs, peals of laughter ringing through the air. Julian likes to think of her laughs as all or nothing kind of laughs. They’re face-splitting and teeth-grinding, sounding as though they are ripped from her soul, the kind of whole-heartedness and sincerity he doesn’t really see a lot of in people nowadays. All or nothing. She rings as true as a bell. He finds strength in it. 

“You lie. I don’t have bacne,” she says quietly with a soft huff, leaning into his touch.

“You said it first,” he says.

She’s just about to retaliate – and Julian’s already bracing himself for the long spiel about how she moisturizes, she’s clean, no way in hell would she have any bacne – when Cristina’s voice carries over the breeze: “Emma! It’s high tide!”

“That’s my cue,” Emma says, whirling around to face Julian. She squints at him, nose scrunching up, considering for a while. Finally, she seems to arrive at the decision to prop up his sunglasses on his head, uncovering his eyes. Maybe she sees something in them, because she softens. Her knife-sharp smile melts into something rare to see, something tender.

Wordlessly, she leans in to press her lips against his. Their mouths move against each other’s seamlessly, matching the beat of each other’s rhythm. Emma kisses hard and fierce, giving her all. This kiss doesn’t feel like the ones that send heat pooling down at Julian’s stomach, or the kinds that wrench soft sounds from him. It feels more like a confession made through a kiss because she’s too shy to do it with words, more like a message and a plea and a promise, more like wait for me, because we’re in this together, you and me.

They break away. Emma holds his face for a few more seconds before peeling herself away. She stands up, brushes the sand from her body. Her cheeks are red.

She grins at him.

“See ya later,” she says.

Julian nods, cracking a smile. “Go catch some waves.”

She sprints off, leaving tracks in the sand as she makes her way to Cristina, who beckons to her.

Julian lets out a long sigh and leans back on his elbows. His gaze jumps from the children, who have constructed a magnificent tower, to Emma, who shrieks with joy at the strong force of the tide, to the horizon, the line where the sea just so breaks into sky, where the water glimmers golden. Julian watches this for a moment, before tilting his head back and closing his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> so like if it wasn't explicit enough the sunglasses are a metaphor for julians barriers. julians self-blame and hatred are represented by his constant vigilance of the children. when he finally looks up at the sky at the end of it, its like he's finally trusting emma to relax and forgive himself


End file.
